


Amor en los tiempos del Corvus.

by DucklingExtravaganza



Category: Persona 5
Genre: A considerable amount of crows, Additional tags will be added, Fandom in general needs more magical realism, Gen, It’s the crow bonding fic, M/M, Magical Realism, Mutual Pining, Possible metaphors but not really, Rating May Change, Stream of Consciousness, The author is dead and you all are welcome to eat cake at my funeral
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 14:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21321964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DucklingExtravaganza/pseuds/DucklingExtravaganza
Summary: A murder follows a murderer who will follow to be murdered following a murdered who will follow to be murdered then followed by a murder after the follow-up of his murder.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Murder of Crows, Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	Amor en los tiempos del Corvus.

**Author's Note:**

> Wayyyyyy too many puns for me not being a native speaker. Here is the Crow bonding Fic.

The next day, at approximately six in the afternoon, Goro recognized the voice of the man that had come through the door. 

Ren looked messier than usual, so much so that his appearance might just do a 180 into being orderly. His clothes and hair were a complete disaster, a precious bruised eye adorning his left side and ragged clothes to match. Goro imagined him getting into a fistfight with a polar bear on a dirty sewer while twelve monkeys threw peanuts at both contenders.

For what it was worth, Goro was sure Ren had won the fight and the polar bear laid unconscious at the mercy of the peanut-throwing monkeys.

“Sojiro, I’m home!” Ren announced nonchalantly to either nobody in particular or the whole café, slightly coughing some feathers afterwards, his expression as neutral as ever. 

Sojiro looked annoyed that all eyes were suddenly locked on this one teenager he happened to be the legal guardian of, and who also currently sported a look similar to a drug addict with three charges for vandalism and a serious beef with the yakuza.

“Go change right this instant!” Sojiro said before any appropriate ‘how are you?’s or ‘what the fuck happened to you?’s. 

His order was so absolute and imperative, and so absolutely imperative, that Goro didn’t have time to muster any of the aforementioned questions before Ren rushed towards the attic without even saying ‘hi! I got run over by a six wheel truck whose wheels were made of chickens!’.

To be fair, Goro highly doubted Ren kept his vision in his right eye (the one he should have used to notice Goro) when it looked like he had dipped the whole right side of his face on red and purple-ish ink. Not a good look on anyone else, but Ren could pull it off, as much as Goro hated himself for staring.

Fine, such a rude offense would be forgiven, but just this time. Goro might not feel so merciful any other day.

Sojiro sighed loudly, which caused Goro to snap out of his made-up court that prosecuted Ren’s numerous crimes against humanity, like ignoring Goro Akechi  _ purposefully _ .

“You can go see him.” Sojiro said to Goro, who blinked twice before assigning a meaning to those words individually, then blinking thrice trying to make that string of words make sense. 

Did Sakura-san think that Ren and him were what? Friends? Something more than casual acquaintances? That he was someone close enough to Ren to deserve the trust of tending to his mysterious wounds? Not like this wasn’t an excellent chance to gather more info about the elusive leader of the Phantom Thieves, but it came off as somewhat unexpected.

Nevertheless, Goro got up and obediently climbed the stairs after Sojiro raised his eyebrows, questioning why the fuck Goro had stood there blinking for a considerable amount of seconds before getting up and doing what was asked of him. 

Goro liked to think his detective personality excused the occasional dissociation (“For you see! My detective instinct makes me overthink shit!”), but he knew that, realistically, most people thought he was just odd (“Man, is that why my only friend is a guy who swung a baseball bat against a wasp nest but instead of wasps what came out of the nest was piranhas?”).

No matter, he arrived to see Ren unsuspectedly shirtless and tending to his own wounds while Morgana scolded him in that annoyed yet concerned tone that he used when Ren was careless in the metaverse. They both looked entertained in what they were doing— back and forth friendly scolding for the soul— and completely oblivious to Goro, who coughed awkwardly to get the pair’s attention.

“Oh, hey Goro!” Ren greeted cheerfully with that charming smile of his that made Goro want to scoff and look away (sidenote: that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Ren was shirtless and rocking some very attractive battle scars, or that his smile was the cherry on top of some of Goro’s most private fantasies.).

“Good afternoon, Amamiya-kun, I—” He wanted to say ‘I trust you’ve been well’, but Goro couldn’t trust much of anything nowadays, less of all Ren’s level of wellness in the past, present or near future (not far future, for there was no far future for Ren Amamiya), specially now under all those bruises and hurt pride, and not to mention Goro being there, which was always detrimental for Ren’s health. “How are you?”

“Doing okay, thank you.” Ren said with a smug tone that denoted he was not doing okay at all, no thanks, then continued “Just kidding, I’m—” he decided what the excuse for being so roughed up this time should be and settled on “I was selling drugs to some thugs and things got out of control. I won, though. Don’t tell Sojiro.” said Ren Amamiya, king of liars, to Goro, god of deceit.

Goro didn't mind as much as he should have, he usually hated information being unavailable to him but Ren’s charming little lies had a certain way of touching his heart— and other vital organs, like his… esophagus, and all the butterflies he had put there; or maybe his larynx who felt so apprehended all of a sudden. 

“Is that so?” He questioned, just as teasingly as Ren wanted him to. “I’m sorry, but as a member of the Tokyo police department I’m obligated to arrest you, or at the very least ask you where you keep your stash and/or if you’d be willing to share some ‘critical evidence’ with me.”

“And what are you planning to do with that, officer?” Was this flirting? It felt an awful lot like flirting, their tones hushed and the sudden closeness, both curious as to how far they could go.

“Maybe…” He closed his eyes, tried to remember the worst thing an officer of the law had said to him. He discarded the ones that would be classified as unasked sexual harassment and settled on a soft one “getting some reward for a long day being the law, I trust you have something to unwind?”

“Of course, of course.” Ren said as shadily as he could. He really was made for the whole drug dealer deal, Goro could imagine him selling cigarettes to younger kids in his highschool before the probation to Tokyo issue. He looked nice doing that, the image made in Goro’s head reflected an attractive guy smoking cigarettes and not caring about the rules, not in a thug way like Sakamoto, but more elegant and sophisticated, eyeliner and fancy coats. Idealistic, yes, but essentially a self indulgent smoking hot fantasy. 

Some part of Goro feared Ren would actually whip out a small container and a needle, maybe some cute-looking pills with smiles on them and promises of big fun— he would have been down, in case someone asks, but he still felt a tingle in his heart thinking about E— but Ren only took an orange prescription bottle from his jacket. He downed a pill without water then handed the bottle to Goro. “C’mon, unwind.”

Goro accepted the bottle and scoffed at the contents. “Painkillers? I thought you had something actually good. You disappoint me once again, Amamiya.” 

Ren giggled. “I’m sorry officer, I’ve been bad.” a flirty tone, a wink, Goro knew what he was doing.

“Then maybe I should—”  _ ‘punish you’ _ was the idea, but suddenly Ren was too close and Goro felt his personal bubble dissolving too much for comfort. Was this too much? Ren had started it but maybe that’s not how close platonic male heterosexual friendships were. What the hell did Goro knew, he never had friends. 

Sakamoto and Ren’s friendship always seemed kind of homoerotic to him, but they might have been more than friends in the first place. Sakamoto always seemed odd in a charming way and Ren had always been… he had that energy to him, that aesthetic that made you look twice and wonder. Maybe he was already taken, maybe Goro was making excuses not to keep getting closer, as always. Who knew.

Ren interrupted Goro’s thoughts and their almost sexy yet platonically heterosexual role play. “You’ve got the police gig down to a T, I’m impressed, officer.” neither of them knew when Goro had gotten so close, sitting next to Ren on bed, but there he was and there they were, giggling about their mutual distaste for police corruption and feeling embarrassed over boundaries not quite crossed.

It felt like something normal teenagers would do. Goro treasured the kind of moments that only Ren could give him.

There were other matters at hand, however, aside from friendly feelings that involved platonic BDSM. Ren’s wounds, for example, that even though looked absolutely gorgeous on his pale skin, were concerning from a medical—not aesthetic nor horny, so stop thinking about that— standpoint.

“Seriously though, what happened to you?” Goro asked after they both stopped laughing.

Ren got scaringly serious all of a sudden. “Birds.” he said, and nothing else.

“Aves.” Morgana (who Goro more often than not forgot was there) deadpanned too.

“...fowls?” Goro questioned tentatively.

“Avifauna.” Morgana assured.

“Feathered enemies.” Ren argued.

Goro stood silent, wondering if he should keep asking for bird synonyms for the rest of eternity or if he should move on to urgent topics.

As tempting as it was to have Ren lecture him on ornithology for the rest of time with that soothing voice of his while he bled to death, Goro settled on saving his life so he could kill Ren appropriately later— though he distantly regretted the lack of ornithos included in his plan. “And what did the passerines do?”

“They stroke.” Morgana said with a disappointment Goro did his best to ignore, as Ren got ready for a dramatic interpretation of his arduous fight against nature.

“I was walking home back from my gun dealer in my innocent innocence when all of a sudden, stationed all over Yongen, a murder of crows greeted my guiltless self just when I was exiting the train stations. Gorgeous little ravens all over the place. They looked at me directly, and I looked at them, and they looked at me looking at them, and I looked at them looking at me looking at— (“Ren, he understands.”). Long story short I managed to enter the café after my passionate encounter with both very cuddly crows and very wrathful crows who seemed to have a certain affinity for my face which, I don’t blame them, everyone does. But that’s just the price of fame. Anyway, I could have gone back to the subway like a coward, but Futaba would have made fun of me, plus, I have a curfew.”

“The fame monster consumed him.” Morgana nodded.

“The fame monster is a murder of crows.” Ren the thief stole Morgana’s witty assertion.

Goro was speechless for the most part. “Woah.” He managed to say, surprised at the sheer amount of incomprehensible yet strangely familiar gibberish Ren had just said.

Ren looked at Goro like he had looked at the crows and Crow looked at Ren like he had looked at the jokesters. 

Goro coughed. “So, uh, are the crows still outside?”

“Probably. I will never know because I’m never going out again.”

_ ‘Can I never go out again with you?’  _ Goro wanted to ask for completely platonic reasons. Or maybe it was that he was just touch-starved, friendship-starved, someone who was crazy enough to fight a considerable amount of crows to get home on curfew-starved. 

He didn’t, because things like that are only said in made-up scenarios. He instead crawled over to the other side of the bed and opened the window to confirm Ren’s story.

Which turned out to be true, there was a very big murder of crows stationed outside. Murder of crows who turned their heads simultaneously towards the recently open window looking ar Goro with a rage only black, lifeless eyes can express. They prepared their little bodies en masse to strike again and—

Goro closed the window.

“They want revenge.” Ren said without looking.

“They won’t go back until they’ve reclaimed your soul.” Morgana said knowingly. The cat looked at Goro with fellowship, communicating that the only way out would be to sacrifice Ren to the crow gods and Goro nodded back, understanding that yes, there was simply no other way around it, Ren was destined to be a martyr one way or another.

He was getting ready to throw Ren out the window when Sojiro walked upstairs.

He was annoyed, not mad as Goro would have expected— he had reached a homeostasis of Ren’s shenanigans. “Can somebody explain to me why there’s a bird infestation outside?”

“It’s Akechi’s fault.” Ren said quickly. 

Goro looked at Ren, unbelievable. “No it’s not!”

“Where there any crows outside before you arrived?”

Goro was speechless once again “Well, no, but that doesn’t mean it’s my—”

“It’s Goro’s fault.” he repeated. Traitorous dirtbag. Goro wasn’t going to feel bad when he killed him.

Thank any god out there, Sojiro sympathized with Goro’s distress. “I don’t care who’s fault it is, just get them out of here. They’re bothering my clients.”

_ ‘Do you still have clients?’ _ Ren would have said if he had wanted to die. He didn’t. Which gave Goro the idea that he wasn’t as suicidal as originally planned and therefore wouldn’t go through the plan of dying at the hands of the murderous murder outside to calm their feathered thirst for blood. Damn it, they would have to think of another strategy.

Sojiro headed downstairs with the ridiculous expectation of two teenagers and a cat solving an equally ridiculous situation, which made sense in context Goro guessed. Dust to dust and nonsense to nonsense.

“I think we should sacrifice Morgana.” Ren offered. 

“Hey! I won’t let you! What would lady Ann say?” Morgana protested. Goro was tempted to try, just for science, but a brighter idea occurred to him. 

“Were you serious when you said it was my fault?” Goro asked.

“I mean, sort of.” Ren replied “I have a solid theory, but I won’t hold it against you.”

Goro wanted to say thank you, but that would have been dumb. Instead he followed Ren along. “So can I do anything to make them leave? According to your—” ugh, Goro dreaded calling it that “‘theory’.”

“I mean, according to my theory, you can leave.” Goro felt offended. How dare he— “But I don’t want you to leave, so we can come up with something else.” Oh, now Goro was flustered. Well, the feeling is the same. How dare he?

“I’m fine with leaving.” Goro— who didn’t want to leave at all— said, not wanting to keep discussing his guilt in bird-related matters. He got up and was ready to make his leave against all cats and thirsty teenagers until Ren stopped him.

Ren, even if he was hurting from the bruises and his feelings, got up just slightly to hold onto Goro’s sleeve. “You don’t have to.”

He looked like a kicked puppy. Goro even felt bad in his cold, dead heart; not enough to stop, though. 

He swiftly removed Ren’s hand from his clothing. “But I ought to. I wouldn’t want to impose.” Goro said sadistically under the guise of pleasantries. It was good that Ren felt guilty. Good! He was the one who told him to leave in the first place so he should feel guilty about being fucking rude. 

It tasted like prophecy when Goro thought about it. The only solution is to leave, even when Ren can’t see it that way, even when Ren wants to keep him and make an alternative where Goro can stay. Even when—

Nevermind. Despite Ren’s despaired gaze he left the attic and headed downstairs towards the café, said his goodbyes to Sojiro— who looked at him less annoyed and more disappointed— and exited as casually as he entered. Nevermind the effectively frightening murder outside. 

There wasn’t any murder that Goro couldn’t solve and this was no exception. He looked at them and they stared back, lifeless still.

Crows were sort of cute, weren’t they? And not nearly as deadly as Ren had assured. Not to Goro, at least. They hadn’t tried to kill him.

Yet.

He greeted them politely with a small bow and they moved their feathers in greeting too. He quite liked them, and he could tell they quite liked him. Was this what camaraderie felt like?

Fine, if they were his fault then he could keep them under control, like everything else in his life, he could handle this no problem.

He walked towards the subway as relaxed as he would a normal day, not even flinching when the crows followed him to the entrance or even sighing in relief when they didn’t follow him inside. This was a normal day and Goro had everything under control. Things were okay.

Don’t think about a certain thief, or about his wounds or his smile, or his talking cat or the way he makes you feel so normal and so special at the same time, of games that are so similar to flirting but can’t be because why would he—

If you think about it, you lose.

Home sweet home. Goro managed to arrive without looking back and without making a fuss. Wasn’t Amamiya so dramatic? Goro just gulped casually when he found his apartment covered with black feathers and an open window guilty of the mess. He just blinked once, twice, thrice; walked exactly four steps, then fell asleep on his familiar couch at the count of five. No problems at all.

But his somnolency overtook him, the realization of how tiring the day had been struck him like a murder of crows and he found himself inadvertently weak five words before falling asleep:

_ Amamiya looked so good today… _

Morning came with back pain because, obviously, you don’t pass out in your couch from crush/bird related shenanigans, at least not if you’re a good person. Which Goro was not, so he woke up with the equivalent of a Victorian child with an extreme case of scoliosis for working on the coal mines who somehow got a doctor to prescribe him with a wooden corset in the back pain scale. 

The second thing Goro noticed after the pain was the smell. It smelled wet and… swampy, sort of dirty, dirty in the sense of humid. 

It was a bad smell, Goro would have to ask for some extra money to hire someone to clean the place. Shido wasn’t generous, of course not, unredeemable grinch breeded with pre-ghosts Scrooge; but he wouldn’t let Goro live in a pigsty, not if it affected his public image. Hell, the man had offered to give Goro some extra money free of charge if he went an used it for— Goro shivered thinking about it, about Shido’s hand on his thigh, his dirty money on Goro’s face, smell of booze and sex all over the place— “blow a load on buying some cats”. 

He refused, obviously, it wasn’t as if he wanted to or if a ‘kitty’— as Shido had put it— would help him relieve stress in any way. The only stress reliever Goro needed was to put a bullet between Shido’s eyebrows, and paying for that sort of thing just wasn’t his style, he wanted to do the deed himself.

It’s true when they say money can’t buy happiness.

Now that he was not worried about the consequences of that stink, Goro deigned to finally open his eyes, notice the murder on his apartment.

“Oh.” He said to express not surprise, but a sort of passive acceptance to his new situation. A bad idea, it seemed, because he got struck by a sense of deja vú when the crows once again turned their heads simultaneously in his direction. 

“Uh, hi.” Goro said to the crows, thinking that there was no way he was getting into heaven after all the shit he had pulled in his life. He wondered what he would leave in his testament (‘I leave everything to Audrey lll— my houseplant— except for my jail time and my sins, which I leave to Ren Amamiya’), or what would be written on his headstone (‘Here lies Goro Akechi, fucking loser bouldered by himself instead of mountain climbing because he never had friends’).

The future wasn’t too bright, all things considered. 

A, honestly kind of ugly, little baby crow approached him silently while he divagated (cogitated! Birdbrains divagate). It was adorable in his own ugly little baby way, and he politely left a small pendant in front of Goro while he revised his death wishes inside his head. The other crows looked at the two new crows expectantly.

It felt somewhat like a test, so instead of saying ‘fuck off, I’m thinking about my death’ like Goro usually said to inanimate objects or bothersome animals that crossed his path when he was alone, he bowed slightly and pleasantly stated “Why, thank you.” and his famous lady-killer smile.

The rest of the crows seemed pleased enough not to attack him for some terrible offense to crow etiquette, so Goro, ever the gentleman, grabbed the small pendant (shiny yet sober, something Sae-san would like) and thanked his guest for the gift again.

After the appropriate pleasantries, Goro decided that he liked the birds or, at least, that he didn’t mind them enough to make a big deal out of them still being there when he headed to his (thankfully uncrowded) room to change then came back and his murder of a guest was still in the living room, death-silent as ever.

“If you are going to stay we will need to set some rules.” Because Goro Akechi was an excellent host, no doubt, but the budget for cleaning staff in this world of his had a limit. “You need to stay outside or, at least, not make a mess when you come over.” He said while getting ready to make his gracious exit to the cold, uncaring world outside of his apartment. 

He thought he saw the crows nod before heading out. Such polite guests, more polite than a certain unrelated raven boy he considered at most a reasonably close acquaintance.

Before going out, he added a second clausure “... and if you see the guy you saw yesterday walking around, kill him.”

The crows nodded again in agreement.

That was ridiculous, of course, crows didn’t nod nor had murder capacity (yes they did), they were too classy and pretentious to express such humble gestures but, then again, so was Goro, he could empathize with his new friends.

Getting out of the house and facing a new day was an excruciating process, as always. Being polite to every stranger, every reporter who wouldn’t go away without a ‘I’ll schedule an interview later’ or ‘I’m sure I’ve heard of your magazine but I really am in a hurry right now’, every random fangirl who touched his hair even though he had said at least seven times on interviews that people touching his hair annoyed him beyond words was, to say the least, infuriating.

Scum of earth who wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone. What are people even good for? Climate change couldn’t kill every human on earth fast enough.

Climate change because of the more than hilariously ironic self-fulfilling prophecy of mass self-destruction. Take that, humanity, you’ll die as reckless as you lived.

Goro loved irony, he couldn’t lie, and climate change reminded him so much of his least favorite vessel of all the dumb plot twists on earth:

_ Ren Amamiya you are… _

_ climate change. _

_ Climate change, _

_ cold in the poles and  _

_ hot in the equator. _

_ You are migraine in my head,  _

_ under my head, _

_ ice in my heart; _

_ lower than my heart  _

_ you are heat in my…  _

Not going there, it’s not even twelve and you’re late on the way to work. No need for a change of climate in your pants.

He should stop thinking about him but Ren Amamiya you are… a bad metaphor. Something I shouldn't be thinking about, or getting so worked up. You are irredeemably pretentious and absolutely empty on the inside. 

Speaking of being irredeemably pretentious, absolutely empty and climate change; work was covered today by a cloud of smoke. 

Of… bad moods and insufferable coworkers, toxic work relationships and pollution. Unsurprising, considering how tense the mood had been lately with the whole Phantom Thief business. Nothing out of the ordinary. Life is a sad little dance of pretend social interaction and then you die. Goro planned to die younger than most and that’s why he was having his midlife crisis at 18. Making bad slam poetry and adopting a thousand feathery friends.

The cloud of smoke, Goro thought as he settled on his polar opposite of cozy office, might have been a myriad of black birds representing the sincerely grim environment of the workplace. They were quite similar after all, a cloud and bird, flying around and causing trouble, poisonous black, an omen of bad fortune, probably deadly if you inhaled them.

Suspicions were confirmed when a knock on the door snapped Goro out of his thoughts. Another knock and he was sure someone was calling him, a third one didn’t come because Goro opened his seventh floor window to his new guest, but he was sure that at the fifth knock there would be a murder in the police department.

Before any guest could make an appearance, he cleared up some stuff first: “I wasn’t thinking about inhaling you.” 

As not to be rude, of course. It’s not polite to inhale guests, as cloudy or crowley as they may be. 

Two beautiful corvids came dancing inside the office with that graceful yet funereal flight of theirs. Goro greeted them with politeness and they acknowledged him back with only a pleasant shake of their tiny bodies. That, and the small trinket dropped on his desk.

“Oh? Another one?” he asked them. 

He had already gifted the pendant to Sae and, as expected, she had loved it. Goro had no use for it and he liked Sae quite a bit. He briefly wondered if his friends would consider impolite that he had re-gifted the present that had been so graciously given to him, but these two particular ravens didn’t seem to mind.

Sincere communication had never been easy for Goro, but he felt inspired to do his best lately. Shiny ebony characters seemed to have a knack for making him want to be the better version of himself.

As useless as that was, of course. Death was a cruel mistress who would have Goro’s last dance soon enough at the tune of that grim, funerary jazz, but wanting to be slightly a better person might land him in a maybe not too deep circle of hell. Parricide shouldn’t be that big of a crime anyway, Goro always thought. God had killed his own son and now the sons of God couldn't kill God back? Talk about unfair. 

If that logic didn’t sound good in heaven, at least Goro was sure that Satan would empathize with him. Satan was always a big supporter of parricide. 

_ ‘I know I killed my bastard of a father!’ _ Goro would say  _ ‘But I’m a good person on the inside. See? I’m good with crows!’ _ And Satan would understand because it would remind him of his own tragic backstory, casted away from heaven by a shitty father, and maybe he’d even give Goro a raise... in Hell. Which probably worked the same way as his actual workplace did. Hell’s economic model is neoliberalism, obviously. 

Oh, who was he kidding, he was going to end up right besides frozen King Lucifer. Staying positive only went as far as hoping Lucifer could still talk so maybe they could bond over daddy issues. 

At least he got to feel a little bit good about himself (don’t think it’s underserved, don’t think it’s undeserved, do NOT). Feeding the crows apples was fun, their tiny little beaks consuming with passion, and he even got to keep a small yellow cat collar in exchange! A very fair trade deal.

Now, it could be easy to pretend this yellow collar didn’t belong to Morgana or that Ren hadn’t written café LeBlanc’s direction on the side with very faded Sharpy. This was NOT the perfect excuse to go talk to Ren once again after he had talked himself out of it for the nth time this day (Goro gazed at the clock, it was only 1pm. Jesus Christ). 

“You are not trying to be my wingman, are you?” Goro asked, clearly annoyed at the teasing. Last thing he needed was a relationship with his victim, or relationship advice from a flock of birds. 

The two crows stayed in his desk looking at him expectantly and a certain offended air to them, waiting for him to get the punch line.

“You two are—” They  _ were  _ wingmans, Goro realized in horror. Crows are… tiny wingpeople, feathered small creatures with people brain and not-people wings. Oh. What he said sounded offensive said out loud, didn’t it? 

God, he was such an asshole, to treat the small wingpersons who wanted to do him a favor and maybe get his lonely ass out of the routine like that. This is why he didn’t have any friends. 

They looked at him again, lifeless and bored now. If he wasn’t genuinely sorry for being rude to his new friends, Goro would have found the whole situation hilarious. Him apologizing to a crow? Unheard of! But they had been so polite and kind to him, kinder than anyone else aside from… 

It was only fair he treated them the same. 

“That was so rude of me to say, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make a pun.” He apologized profusely. And even if he didn’t want to get out of his house ever again for the rest of eternity he promised to them, “I’ll go see him, okay?” 

The feathered creatures shook their wings in acceptance of the apology. Goro sighed, he was doing something right at least at last.

Wasn’t this funny? If he ever got wingman’ed, he expected it to be Takamaki or Sakura’s daughter. Not some raven ruffians visiting him at work unexpectedly. 

Which… he had fantasized about, as embarrassing as that was. A raven ruffian climbing a window and taking him away from work and life and all the things that hurt and are bad, away from himself. Not that it would ever happen, but it was nice to think about it and look out the window dreaming of freedom and redemption. 

Redemption and then… being thrown against his desk, made to hold the fake wood as hard as he could while his black-winged savior thrusted inside of him. The sound of a gun cocking—third drawer, under the fake pretense of papers and random trinkets, it’s always there— they both get so, so close to climax (a pearly gate opens) and as the child of man is about to unload Judas turns around and—

_ Bang!  _

Anti-climatic as ever.

Goro was tired. So, so tired of his life jumping up and down from one tragedy to another like a disgraced Greek protagonist, trying to escape an inescapable doom announced to him by an Oracle. He felt like both protagonist and Oracle. He had sealed this fate himself out of his own volition, yes, but it didn’t make it any less tragic. 

Very ironic, probably. Less deserving of redemption, absolutely. Hilarious, completely; he deserved the mockery. But still pretty tragic if you were the kind to have a soft spot for arrogant antagonists. 

This not-crush and these crows were only one more of the dramatic obstacles he would have to deal with in the play before reaching the climax. 

Or not deal with it at all like the rest of his lesser problems and wait until his tragic death, when those weren’t his problems anymore. When workmates and acquaintances didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t expect anymore to show up at his funeral anyway. Maybe Ren, just so his ghost could watch him cry in delight. 

Selfish, of course. But if he had learned to live like that. He could love like that, too. 

Not that this was love in any way, of course, certainly, absolutely, undoubtedly; he would never fall for such a hazardous and shabby individual such as the leader of the Phantom Thieves and assured next victim. That was simply too inconvenient to even consider. And if Goro Akechi was characterized by something it was pragmatism. 

The two crows finished the rest of the apples Goro planned to have for lunch and dinner and were ready to take off after seeing their work complete, but while as they stared out the window visualizing the freedom found on flight Goro missed something, or rather, he longed for something else, something that the crows held in their little bony claws of not bone or soft non-human wings. 

“Stay.” A voice produced by Goro’s vocal chords begged them. Not Goro himself, he hadn’t even thought about asking that, but a certain part of him located suspiciously inside his throat insisted. “If you want to.” 

The two crows looked at one another as if confirming something. They spoke in that hushed bird language that requires no sound and agreed on a plan of action. Goro stood as the ambassador of a universe so close yet far away from his own it felt like looking into a crystal ball.

“CAW!” stated elegantly one of the two crows (who Goro decided to call Moses for the time being).

“Caw caw.” Moses’s friend (who would now pass to be appropriately named Joshua) agreed. 

“Caw?” Goro asked, sort of grasping the argument but still not quite and hoping to god he hadn’t said something offensive again. He would have to get better at Tok Pisin sooner or later if he didn’t want to be left behind in such profound discussions, or at least keep some semblance of friendship with the two biblical figures. He wondered briefly if they could illuminate him with Glossolalia as a gift for letting them stay at his apartment. 

The amount of caws back and forth that this passionate conversation was made of would not be just to describe right away, because as easy as it is to write a ‘caw caw caw’ for a while longer, none of it would describe each specific intonation, tone and gesture that accompanies it and all of which makes up the superior language of birds. What is important, however, is that Goro found himself understanding the message contained in such numerous caws a little better every single time, and even adding his own.

By the time an agreement was reached Goro happily— because such fruitful conversations always leave one with a good taste on either beak or mouth— got closer to the window and called out to the black smoke oozing from the building and invited it inside to make him company.

“Come on in!” 

And like a cloud who had been called to rain, the darkness entered Goro’s window transformed already in what it always was: his raven friends protecting him from above, rather than a bad mood or foul play from his workmates.

They were so very, very kind, Goro thought as he sat down again to review a case, now not as lonely as ever. Every last one of the small gentlemen in black feather suits took a place on his office so tastefully that it didn’t even feel crowded, rather, at first glance you could swear it was very fashionably ornated. 

Their company was as pleasant as it was therapeutic, because Goro never thought he’d felt so calm doing his job or find himself enjoying it so much. Maybe loneliness was an illness he suffered, but he already found a suitable medicine in the natural caw drops of his new and attentive assistants. 

That’s what he told himself, at least, stuffing the small yellow collar in one of his drawers and hoping Moses and Joshua wouldn't resent him for the postponed promise.

What did he even need Amamiya for, anyway? The couch beside his desk looked awfully lonely without a single crow sitting on it, as if making space for someone else, but that was just pure coincidence. A life in a birdhouse with the love of his life was simply too bohemian— beautifully miserable, humoristically starving— for Goro to handle.

Goro concentrated so much into his work, so deep in thought he was, that when Sae Niijima knocked at his door with some urgent matter or another, he didn’t even hear her, less he heard her enter and make a surprised noise at the new baroque aesthetics of the usually minimalistic office. What Goro did hear was the sound of more than a hundred startled wings fluttering around and directing themselves against the unexpected intromision.

And the apology Goro had to mutter after the incident, even though he was speaking japanese, could only be understood in its heartfelt entirely if he had articulated it in the language of birds.

Sae-san’s hair being ruined like that would always be the peak of tragedy, no matter the context.

  
  


Goro paced back and forth, anxious and restless in front of Moses, holding the accursed cat collar.

“It’s stupid, it’s senseless, it’s irrational, it’s imbecilic. I have no reason to go back to him after how rudely he treated me! Not to mention he’s going to be dead in a few weeks so what should it matter what I do now? It doesn’t! That’s the worse part! I’m so tired of living like me. And it’s not even my fault this time, maybe if we had met earlier we could have done something but there is nothing else to do after this. Don’t cry over spilled milk, is it? And he’s the biggest glass of spoiled milk that is going to be spilled all over my expensive pants because you don’t want me to keep it where it should be kept!” 

The crow said nothing nevermore.

“Don’t just stand there! Say something!”

Crow, who, of course, can never say anything of relevance, stayed quiet, not even dignify a croac to his very betrayed homonymous.

“This is your fault.” The Crow who could speak said, bitter to the end “I shouldn’t even—” 

Moses raised an eyebrow— or at least as much of a raised eyebrow a crow can raise—, Goro had realized something. “Yeah! I shouldn’t even be here! I mean, it’s not even six! Not a reasonable hour at all to be in a coffee shop.”

Moses was esceptic. 

“What? I can’t just  _ wing _ it.”

“What can’t you wing?”

Goro jumped and contained a ‘Jesus Christ Amamiya, what the fuck?’ “Good afternoon, Amamiya-kun.” He smiled instead, pleasant as ever and just like any other day.

Ren and Moses made the same face, but it was Ren who voiced the words trapped in that expression. “That’s certainly one change of attitude.”

“You must forgive me, today has been—” Goro stopped himself and looked at the sole crow “stressful, to say the least.” 

“Do you want to come inside?” Ren was way too quick to ask. He and Moses looked at Goro the same puppy-dog eyes that denoted that they might have been accomplices in the coup.

Damn their conspiracies. “No, I’m fine, I appreciate the offer, though.” 

A Joshua on his shoulder, suddenly. Not weird, just unexpected. 

“Oh.” Ren sounded disappointed. “That’s okay, thank you for the collar.” 

Moses at his feet peeking at his pants’ bottom hem.

“It’s no problem. I’ll be sure to pass by some other time, but right now is just no good for me.” Meaning: ‘I don’t have a script planned and these visits require preparation. Who do you think I am? Some sort of messy hair hippy who goes around making friends unprompted?’ 

A fat, frizzy crow on Ren’s head, falling so softly he didn’t seem to notice his big crow body, making a tiny nest in the already nest-like bearskin hat Ren had instead of proper human hair. Goro mentally called the crow Aureliano Second. 

‘And the record for most oblivious guy ever goes to…’ Goro thought, ironically and painfully close to being self-aware. 

“Yes, and I’ll have a warm cup of coffee waiting.” Sweet smile, non-flirting, Ren Amamiya brand sexual confusion. Crow in his head making him somehow more charming. It was the parental instinct maybe, the Disney Princess air of being kind and good with animals. That was Goro’s first, how very rude of him to steal that too. 

The door closed and so did some hopes, not ones Goro cared about, though, but somebody else did.

The founding fathers of Judaism, for example, insistently pulling at Goro’s clothes and keeping him in place with their severe gazes, gazes of someone who has seen god and lived to record it, then pass it on to the people. 

Goro is annoyed. “I’m not going in.” 

Joshua and Moses are not convinced, something tells Goro that Aureliano Second isn’t either, feeling him from beyond the door and atop of the boy he calls house; the ever-present murder of crows behind him disapproves as well. 

“I already told you it’s—” 

The flicker of a thousand wings once again startles him, thought he saw that one coming. 

Moses places his tiny black hollow eyes on Goro’s red crow ones, communicates as clear as cellophane:  _ this is your last chance to do this on your own will. _

“I’m not.” 

_ Fine. _

The cloud of black smoke that used to be crows— and still is, but now organized to attack— transformed into rain to pour on Goro like daggers falling from the sky, sharp and precise, beak and wing; all to reach a single loverboy and grab him as harmlessly as possible— which is to say, very harmfully and scratchy, because as elegant as rains of daggers are, they are also very sharp. Some beaks took a hold of his clothes, some other straight up entered his coat and moved him from the inside, most of them just pushed him so he walked forward, forward and into LeBlanc.

** _Thud! _ **

The sound of someone hitting the door, a fluttering of feathers and a murder taking place startle Ren and Aureliano Second— still very comfortable in the expropriated fluffy parcel who used to be Ren’s and now thanks to an agrarian reform is officially crow state property, thank you very much, complaints to the higher-ups— who jump a bit. Morgana rushes down the stairs, surprised too, for the rukus outside. 

“Ren did you anger some other birds again?” Morgana asks, then sighs in disappointment. “Why do you have a bird in your hair.” It doesn’t sound like a question, more like being tired. 

“‘tis me hair.” Ren says, thinking briefly about Ryuji and his pirate ways. 

Morgana, in his perpetual state of not being impressed: “It looks like a fat crow.” 

“It always does.” 

“No but, especially today. Isn’t your head feeling heavier than usual?” 

“It’s always heavier, I don’t have hair all over my body like you do, just the top of my head, so it’s natural that it’s heavier.”  _ Obviously _ . 

“It looks like you have a full bird nesting on your head.” Aureliano Second shook his feathers— yes, that was accurate, both before and after. 

“Sojiro says the same thing.” 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“Thanks.”

And then, after a second  ** _thud!_ ** “Shouldn’t you open the door?” 

“Yeah, I should.” 

A third  ** _thud! _ **

“Are you going to… nevermind, I’ll do it myself.” Morgana said, simply devicind to accept that Ren had grown a bird like one grows a plant, and maybe that was the most rational thing he had done this week. Sure, it hurt Morgana’s pride that Ren decided to get another pet after all the hardships they went through, specifically a  _ crow  _ of all birds, that wasn’t even subtle, but if Morgana just thought about it as a plant or an extension of Ren’s hair, as suggested, there shouldn’t be any problems.

Tiny kitty paws opened gracefully the café’s door to give way to the ungraceful show of the straw man being shoved inside with the will of a hundred black and sharp thunderclouds. 

“Oh, it’s Goro.” Ren greeted. 

“Caw!” Aureliano Second greeted as well.

Morgana saw checkmate not in the direction of their poor new feathered guest, but in Ren’s “You heard it caw! We all did!” He exclaimed “There’s a bird in your hair!” 

“I just said it was Goro, he’s full of birds. Are you even listening, Morgana?” Ren said, disillusioned with Morgana’s hearing skills. It’s not good for a Phantom Thief to have such faulty interpretation of the scene, they would have a serious talk about this later. 

“You said that before it even—” Ren raises an eyebrow. He was not going to listen, was he? “Fine, whatever, your hair is just ugly.” Aureliano Second gave a lower, more offended caw. Morgana changed directions. “Hey, Akechi, are you okay?” 

“Caw.” Moses responded for all of them, indicating an Akechi Goro passed out on the floor of LeBlanc.

“Yes, I caw see.” Ren replied to the medical report. “Thank you for your service.” 

Ren walked from behind the counter and got closer to Goro while the crows solemnly left the two of them alone, one crow even urging Morgana to go wait outside with them. Morgana—who of course spoke bird and other animals— saw himself thoroughly convinced by the fast argumentation of Joshua, offered a last look to the unlikely pair and followed his ebony neighbors outside. 

“Do you ever get that feeling of deja vú?” Ren asked to the Goro on the floor. 

The Goro on the floor, not as passed out as originally planned scoffed. “Absolutely not. If anything, this is a jamais vú.” 

Ren crouched to stay at Goro’s level. “Are you completely unfamiliar with the feeling of being passionately kissed by a murder before?” 

“I might be, have you?”

“I could do it again.”

“Charming.” 

Ren got even closer. 

**Author's Note:**

> You shouldn’t... expect updates until December, I’m afraid u_u I have some stuff to do but this had been sitting on my docs for a while and as I said before, fandom is in some SERIOUS need of magical realism and other literary genres. 
> 
> Follow me on @MagicoQueque on twitter for some more shuake goodies <3.
> 
> ((This has way too many unoriginal references, I know I should read more books but alas u_u time and depression y’know?))


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